A Day In The Life
by electricallyxcharged
Summary: A series of short one-shots about random OC crewmembers on the Enterprise and their interactions with the crew we all know and love. Day 1: Tuesday Afternoon, featuring Jim Kirk and Spock.


A/N: Hi everybody! It's my first time writing a ST story, despite the fact that I've loved it for 9 years! Hopefully all the stewing on the love has been worth it XD I've done a little bit of research into this story on Memory Alpha & Wikipedia but please feel free to point out any and all errors. This could be based on the Original Series, I guess, but I feel I've got a better grasp on Movieverse Kirk & Spock than on the Spork of the OS.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of the characters, apart from the random crew members I'll be conjuring up for this story.

**1. Tuesday Afternoon**

It was Tuesday. Not Sunday, but Tuesday. It wasn't surprising for the laundry room of the USS Enterprise to be empty on a mid-week (well, almost mid-week) night. It _was_ surprising for it to be _this _empty, though.

Crewman Carol Lee sat hunched over her desk, tracing invisible patterns on the desktop with her fingertip. The soft music filled the room, coming just above the soft hum of the sonic washers. For a moment, a soft ping in the 20th century jazz caused her to look expectantly at the door. She shared a horrified look with her shift-mate, Marla then, when the door remained closed, she returned to her aimless doodling.

Captain James T. Kirk's laundry was late. Normally, his ever-efficient yeoman, Rand, would bring it in (or have it delivered) on Sunday at 1500 hours and pick it up the next morning at 0800, like clockwork. That is, until he spotted Crewman Marla Hansen who just happened to have been asked to deliver the captain's laundry to his quarters one Monday morning.

Ever since that fateful morning six weeks ago, Captain Kirk had taken over the management of his laundry himself - much to Rand's dismay. It added to his growing list of ways in which to escape his paperwork, only made worse by his need to spend almost an hour putting everything away while Marla was there so he wouldn't "improperly store his clothes" and have them creased for the next day ("And we wouldn't want the crew seeing their captain with a creased uniform, would we? Really, Randy, it sets a bad example."). Rand hadn't yet figured out that most of the command crew, including the Captain, had had their uniforms switched to the new non-creasing synthetics at the last space dock.

"Why don't you just tell him you're not interested?" Carol had suggested, interrupting her friend's tirade after her third delivery to the captain's quarters.

"Do you really think I could make it any more obvious?" Marla raised an eyebrow, her hands on her hips.

Carol thought back to the last interaction she'd witnessed ("You know, Hansen, there's a place at my table tonight with your name on it." "Thanks, but no, thanks, Captain.")

"I guess not," she conceded.

"Exactly! He just won't leave me alone!"

"Well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em," Carol grinned, waggling her eyebrows.

Marla rolled her eyes and sighed. "I told you, I'm just not interested."

"And I keep repeating myself: are you _insane_? That's the hottest piece of man meat for at least a 20 light years."

"Oh please," Marla waved at her dismissively. "Dr. Leonard McCoy, now _that_ is some decent man meat."

"And when do you plan to actually speak to Dr. McCoy?"

"I _have_ spoken-"

"Saying "Good morning" when you drop off the med bed linens doesn't count." Carol folded her arms across her chest.

"Well, then, whenever the opportunity presents itself," Marla mirrored her pose and sat down in her chair.

Six weeks later, today presented the first break in the cycle. On Tuesday, the week before, they had run into some trouble with a prickly trade dispute between two planets around Epsilon Eridani. The orbit was peaceful, and for once, the Enterprise wasn't being bombarded with phasers, torpedoes or the like and her hull was blissfully intact. A betting pool had started in engineering about how long the gentle break would last.

The gossip in the mess hall suggested that the negotiations had been somewhat less peaceful. One of the delegates had fallen asleep during a speech by the chairman of the other planet's delegation at the opening banquet and talks had gone downhill from there. From the second day on, the planet that had requested Starfleet intervention had been particularly insistent that the Captain and his away team be present at any and all negotiations to prevent dispute and encourage fair play. If the reports from the rotating security officers on the away teams were anything to go by, the almighty Captain Kirk seemed to be fraying under the pressure of day-long negotiations and seemingly endless arguments.

The newer crewmembers cheered and the older ones groaned. A restless Captain Kirk was a tightly wound coil that could only be sprung with recreation (both literally and in quotation marks). The greener recruits were looking forward to a parrises squares tournament or at least a shuttle race around one of the nearby moons – the Captain had been hinting at both to the command crew for months now. The older hands were somewhat jaded to Captain Kirk's random recreational activities and comforted by the fact that while intense, the "festivities" never lasted more than a week.

Marla, on the other hand, was petrified. Carol was pretty sure that out of all the women on the Enterprise, Marla and Lieutenant Uhura were the only ones who were immune to the Captain's charms. With a crew complement of 430, it wasn't surprising that crewmembers regularly hooked up. Some had even managed lasting relationships and a few went on to marriage. Even so, Carol was pretty sure you'd have to be a rock to be immune to the megawatt smile of Captain Kirk.

In the face of the impending mother of all stress releases, the crew began to buzz with activity. The ensigns in the Science department had been tinkering with the shuttles in anticipation of a race (if the sudden appearance of grease stains on their uniforms was anything to go by), the entire Security division had divided themselves into teams (and replicated themselves a wardrobe's worth of plain-colored t-shirts) and begun their training for a parisses squares tournament, Engineering had begun another betting pool on whether it would be a race or a tournament or something else entirely and Marla had taken to hiding.

Given the erratic schedule of the past week, Carol had replicated a pair of fresh uniforms for the Captain and delivered them on Friday at the request of Yeoman Rand. It had been a strange occurrence, given the Captain's explicit requests for Marla when it came to delivering his laundry but Carol was happy to do it in her place. Her own huge girly crush on Captain Kirk aside, it saved her at least one weekend of complaints. Her trip had been sadly, uneventful. The captain's doors had opened onto a spacious, but empty sitting room. Carol had left the laundry cart by the door, taken a quick peek into the bedroom, giggled at the non-regulation black sheets and left, telling the computer to leave the Captain a message that his clothes were delivered.

Today was the end of the long and arduous negotiations. A final brunch banquet had been laid and most of the senior officers had been invited to the surface to celebrate. The entire crew was on edge, just waiting for the return of the away team and a break in all the tension. Being stuck on Alpha shift, Carol and Marla were cooped up in the laundry, taking turns to check on the spin cycles, sonic rinses, permanent presses and air fluffs and folding the various items of clothing.

Marla was pacing back and forth, twisting the end of her long brown curls in nervous dread. The Captain had to have his clothes washed eventually and she could only hope that he was too tired to come down himself. Carol had given up trying to keep her busy when she had almost tossed a bunch of Engineering uniforms in with the white bed linens and a scoopful of bleach.

Everything had been pressed, all the cycles would last for at least another half an hour and now Carol and Marla found themselves with nothing to do.

"Well, hello there." A grinning James T. Kirk strode into the room, somehow managing to look absolutely dashing despite the almost-overflowing pile of clothes in his arms. Being tired somehow added to the overall appearance, giving his pale blue eyes a dreamy cast. His immaculate first officer walked in behind him, pushing his own neatly folded laundry in a cart labeled "Commander Spock".

Marla barely concealed her groan of exasperation.

"Good afternoon, Captain, Commander," Carol managed a shy smile as she stood at attention.

"At ease, Crewman," the Captain nodded at her then winked at Marla.

"I see you've forgotten your laundry cart again, Captain," she sighed, standing up but putting a hand on her chair for moral support.

"Have I?" he asked as he set the clothes on the desk. He draped himself artfully over the top and peered at her through his lashes. "I guess you'll just have to come back to my quarters with me to get it."

"Actually, Captain, we picked up some new carts at the last supply stop," Carla pointed out. She could tell her friend would love to do anything but what the Captain had just suggested. Hoping to cut her some slack, she placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled reassuringly at her. "They're in the back – Marla, why don't you get some?"

"I think you're going to need some help with that, Crewman," Kirk slipped behind the counter and put an arm around Marla's shoulders. Marla just rolled her eyes and stalked into the back of the laundry. Carol winced. _Oops._

"I just don't get it," she muttered bemusedly to nobody in particular. She jumped when she heard first officer begin to offload his laundry in a neat tower next to Kirk's haphazard pile, a somewhat long-suffering in his eyes.

"I believe the Captain is attempting to engage in what is known as a 'love-hate relationship'," Spock replied.


End file.
